


All The Single Ladies

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - No One Is In Prison, F/F, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:30:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boomer has dragged her best friend Franky along to a singles' event at their favourite bar. There, our lovely foul-mouthed brunette meets a certain blonde forensic psychologist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Singles' Night

Franky looked around the bar and sighed. Why in the world had she let Boomer convince her to come along to the singles’ event? Booms had promised her that they’d stay together, but she’d been chatting up the same bloke for about half an hour now.

“Well hello, beautiful.” She turned to her right to find a man of about her age looking at her expectantly. He had a cut on his left cheekbone, presumably from shaving. Franky said nothing and pointed at her neon pink coloured wristband and name tag. Both were decorated with bright green letters spelling out: ‘LOOKING FOR WOMEN’.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll help you change your mind,” the man continued, smiling broadly at Franky. Something green was stuck between his teeth.

“Fuck off,” Franky growled, and she turned her back on the bloke.

“Jeesh!” In the reflection in the window, Franky could see that he walked away. She felt a chill run down her spine. Men like that gave her the creeps. Looking down at the napkin in front of her, she jotted down a dash in the left column.

_Whackers: IIIII II             Girls:_

Groaning, she let her forehead fall onto her folded arms. She could feel another person sling onto the barstool to her left. Without lifting her head, she called out: “Oh, just get lost, would ya!”

 

The response came in the form of a warm, alto voice.

“Alrighty then.” Franky looked up into bright blue eyes. The slightly-older-than-her face belonging to it was smiling at her. The woman leant forward until her arms were resting on the bar.

“Hi, can I get a red wine please? Dry? Thank you.” Raising the glass to her lips, she closed her eyes. As she took a sip, the edge of the sleeve of her cobalt blue jacket dropped slightly, revealing a wristband just like Franky’s. Franky nearly choked on her tonic.

The woman stuck out her right hand at Franky.

“Bridget.” Franky stared at her, dumbstruck. Bridget looked at her expectantly. After a few seconds, she added: “The general idea is that you tell me your name now. That’s what tonight is for, isn’t it?” Franky blinked, and answered: “Franky.” She shook Bridget’s hand. “And I just came along to support a friend.” She waved a hand in the general direction of Boomer.

“Then tell me, Franky, why you’re not wearing a grey bracelet?” the blonde asked, letting her index finger rest on the pink plastic decorating Franky’s wrist. Franky chuckled. She was observant, this Bridget. When they’d entered the bar, she’d originally wanted to get a ‘just visiting’ band, but before she knew it, Boomer had put her name down on the ‘looking for women’-list.

“Because I got dragged her against my will,” she admitted. She pointed at Boomer. “That’s my best friend over there, chatting up that scrawny dude.”

“Ah,” Bridget responded. She nodded in the direction of a petite brunette who was nervously talking to some bloke. “That’s Vera; she dragged me along tonight.”

They sat together in a comfortable silence for a while, occasionally commenting on the stupidity of some of the patrons.

 

“Hey, Franks,” Boomer said as she walked up to the bar, “I’mma head out with Gary here, okay?”

“Whatevs,” Franky responded, waving her away.

“Okay. See ya.” Grinning, Boomer dragged the lucky man of the night out of the venue. Franky shook her head, chuckling.

Minutes later, Bridget’s phone went off.

“Hello? … Vera, Christ, you’re ten metres away from me; you couldn’t just walk over here? … Yes, of course. Go, go. I’ll catch a taxi. … Really, it’s fine. Just, be careful, okay? Text me when you get home. … Alright, see you.” As Bridget hung up, Franky noticed the brunette hanging up her phone as well. She raised an eyebrow at the blonde. Bridget smiled, and explained: “She’s a bit…socially awkward, but the sweetest woman I know.” Turning towards the bartender, she ordered a sparkling water.

 

“So, I couldn’t help but overhear that this means you’re stuck without a ride,” Franky commented while Bridget nursed her drink.

“Yeah, what about it?” the other woman asked.

“Well, I happen to have driven here, and neither of us seems to have a reason to stay here anymore, so, I figured, maybe you’d like a ride home?” the brunette suggested. Raising her glass, she added: “Also, I haven’t had anything alcoholic all evening.”

Bridget looked her up and down for a beat. Then, she replied: “Alright then. Let’s get out of here.” Franky grinned, the tip of her tongue touching the right corner of her mouth. She slid off the barstool and marched off to the exit, Bridget following suit. Franky picked up her coat from the wardrobe, flinging it over one shoulder. Together they exited the venue.

“I’m parked over there,” Franky said as she pointed at her Seat Ibiza parked across the street. She unlocked the car and held the passenger door open for Bridget. The blonde smiled as she got in.

“Thank you.” Franky grinned, and got in behind the steering wheel.

“So, Gidget, you got an address?” Franky asked.

“It’s Bridget.” The brunette shrugged.

“Eh, I prefer Gidget.”

 

Bridget led them through the streets of Melbourne until they reached a decent-sized bungalow house off a calm suburban street.

“Well, this is me,” Bridget announced, smiling. When the woman smiled, she smiled with her entire body, Franky noticed.

“O-kay then,” the brunette responded, as she lightly tapped the steering wheel.

“Would…” Bridget began, “Would you liked to come in for a coffee? Or something stronger, if that’s what you prefer.” The older woman chewed on her lip.

“Coffee sounds great.”

 

When they’d gotten inside, Bridget began busying herself with making coffee. Franky plopped down on the sofa at the other end of the room.

“You’ve got a nice place, Gidget.”

“Thank you,” Bridget responded as she grabbed two mugs from a cabinet. Franky eyed the books on the side table.

“Great taste in literature too…well hello! Who might you be?” The younger woman stuck out her hand towards the smoky grey cat that came trotting into the room.

“Hey Fred!” Bridget greeted the animal as she walked up to Franky with two steaming hot mugs. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black. Fred?” Franky asked, smiling as the blonde handed her the warm drink.

“Yup, that’s Fred. He’s lived here all his life, haven’t you?” Bridget explained. She scratched the cat behind his ears as she sat down in an armchair opposite to the couch.

“He’s cute,” Franky decided.

“He’s also the only man allowed in my bed,” the older woman joked.

“And the only one to see you naked?” Franky asked, letting her forearms rest on her knees, tongue in the corner of her mouth.

“Well, I…” Bridget began, setting her mug down on the armrest. She mumbled: “Yes.” Grinning, Franky responded: “My kind of woman!” The blonde chuckled and shook her head, lifting the mug to her lips. She sighed softly as the warm liquid made its way down her throat.

 

After sitting together in a comfortable silence for a while, Franky began: “So, Bridget, I know you have a cat and I know you’ve got good taste, but that’s about it. What do you do? Work-wise, I mean.” She put her empty mug down on the coffee table. Smiling, Bridget replied: “I’m a forensic psychologist. I work at a women’s prison. How about you?”

“I used to work as a station chef at an Italian restaurant, but I’m a paralegal now,” the brunette proudly declared.

“That’s an interesting career switch,” Bridget remarked. Franky shrugged.

“I just wanted to do something more…challenging.” The blonde hummed an affirmative sound.

 

The two women continued talking and finding out more about the other. When Bridget had gotten up to refill their mugs, she chose to sit back down on the sofa next to Franky, instead of the armchair.

“Thanks,” Franky said as she accepted the coffee from the older woman. She cleared her throat and added: “You have gorgeous eyes, ya know.” Smiling, Bridget responded: “Thank you.” A slight blush coloured her cheeks. Franky chuckled. It was adorable.

 

Franky looked at the time on the bright display of Bridget’s stereo system.

“Fuck! Is it really 2 AM already?”

“Yes. Why? It’s Sunday tomorrow,” Bridget asked. Franky poured the rest of her coffee down her throat and shook her head.

“I promised my dad I’d babysit my little sister Tess tomorrow – he’s dropping her off at half past nine…” she groaned. “I’m so sorry, but I really have to go.” She jumped up from the sofa and grabbed her coat from the back of the chair she’d dumped it on.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bridget commented, “I’ll walk you out, then.” Together, they made their way to the front door. Opening it, the blonde said: “Well, goodbye then, Franky.” Franky smirked at her.

“Night, Gidge.” She lunged forward and pressed her lips against Bridget’s. Franky lasted like coffee and something sweet, Bridget thought. Then, as quickly as she had initiated the kiss, Franky broke the contact, spun around and marched off into the night.

 

Dumbstruck, Bridget stood in the door opening for what felt like hours. Shaking her head, she went back into the house. That night, just before she fell asleep, she could still feel Franky’s lips on her own. In one evening, the woman had managed to turn her head upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I'm back! Moving across the country and then not being able to find my laptop or my notebooks in the boxes made it a little hard to upload any stories! ;) Masquerade is still in-progress, but it's coming along slower than I would like. In the meantime, here's a short 5-chapter fic. Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


	2. A Friend in Need

Over the next weeks Bridget found herself thinking of a certain energetic brunette more and more. She just couldn’t forget the glint in those gorgeous emerald eyes, the way her shirt had clung to her curves, the feeling of Franky’s lips against her own…

She was sitting at her desk in her office, typing up a report, when there was a knock at the door. Huh. That was strange – it was five in the afternoon and she’d finished her last appointment at three.

“Come in,” she called out. The door opened almost instantly, and Deputy Governor Vera Bennett entered the room. She looked nervous. Then again, Bridget was fairly sure that the woman was at least somewhat agitated about 23 hours a day. Smiling at the prison officer, she saved her document and closed the lid of her laptop.

“Hey Vera, what’s going on?” she asked, stepping out from behind her desk. “Did something happen in one of the units?” Vera shook her head.

“No, this, uh…” She cleared her throat. “This isn’t exactly work-related. At all.”

“Oh?” Bridget beckoned for Vera to take a seat in one of the two armchairs and sat down across from her. She leant back in her seat, her arms resting on the armrests, waiting patiently for Vera to find the words she was searching her mind for. After a few silent seconds, the woman began: “So, at that singles’ event we went to?” Bridget nodded encouragingly. “I went along with that man, Matt, for a coffee, right?”

“Yes, I remember. He seemed friendly.” Vera smiled, and blushed as she admitted: “He was.”

“What about him?” Bridget asked. The other woman cleared her throat again.

“He texted me today, asking whether he could take me out to dinner tomorrow.” She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her uniform jacket.

“Well? Don’t leave me hanging here, Vera! What have you answered?”

“Nothing yet!” Vera blurted out. “I don’t know what to do, Bridget.”

“Well, are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes, but…” Vera protested weakly, already knowing where this was going to go.

“And you like him, right?” Bridget asked, smiling expectantly. The answer came as a near-whispered: “Yes…”

“Well then! It seems that the answer is quite simple then.” Vera looked up at Bridget and asked: “You think I should go?” Bridget laid a hand on Vera’s knee and answered: “I think you should do what feels best, Vera.”

“Oh, would you stop talking like a psychologist for just one minute?” Vera joked. Bridget laughed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t help it. It’s these damn chairs!” She winked.

 

“Okay then,” Vera decided, “I’ll tell him yes.” She looked happy with her decision, Bridget thought. Suddenly, a look of dread spread across her face. “Oh Lord. I have nothing to wear!”

“That’s a fantastic excuse for a shopping trip then! Or you can borrow something of mine. Whatever you want. Now,” Bridget said, guiding Vera towards the door, “go and text your Prince Charming! And be at my place at twelve tomorrow. We’ll have lunch, and then we’ll work out your outfit. Now go!”

“Okay. I will!” Vera said, chuckling nervously. She made her way down the hallway, a newfound bounce in her step. Smiling, Bridget shook her head and grabbed her laptop from her desk. She could finish the report at home.

 

After having made her way to her car, Bridget drove home. As she entered through the front door, she was greeted by a soft purr and a gentle nudge from Fred.

“Hey little man, how are you?” she greeted him, crouching down to scratch the British Shorthair behind his ears. “Let’s get you some food, huh?” Walking into the open-plan living space, she dropped her bags on the armchair and went to the kitchen cupboards. The soft rhythm of Fred’s paws on the floor followed her path.

 

Later that night, Fred was happily and enthusiastically munching away at his salmon while Bridget was sitting on the couch, watching the 8-o’clock-news and eating some leftover lasagne. Within mere minutes, her mind went to the beautiful brunette who had graced the exact same spot she was sitting in that Saturday night. If only she’d asked for Franky’s phone number. Stupid, stupid, stupid! She had already tried searching the Internet for a Franky in Melbourne, but to no avail. Of course, knowing the younger woman’s surname would’ve probably helped in finding her, too. Maybe Franky didn’t even live in Melbourne, Bridget thought.

Sighing, she swallowed the last bite of her dinner and got up to load her plate into the dishwasher. Time to finish that damn report. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and turned on the radio. Alright – she could do this. One more report, and then she could officially start her weekend. She loved her job, but she detested the paperwork.

 

“Ha! Done!” she suddenly called out after a little over two hours. Great. She emailed the report to her Wentworth-address, and closed the laptop. Finally, no more work until Monday. It had been one hell of a week. This called for wine! She walked up to the kitchen island and poured herself a generous glass of her favourite Chardonnay.

Looking at the clock, she sighed again. It was 10:45. Vera would be coming tomorrow, and she had some errands to run, so she’d have to get up early tomorrow. Ugh. That meant taking the wine to bed. She looked around the room until she spotted Fred. The cat was happily nestled in the corner of the couch. That meant sleeping alone, then. She walked over to the animal and stroked his fur one last time.

“Goodnight little buddy,” she whispered. She switched on the dishwasher and turned off the lights, and walked down the corridor into her bedroom. After having set the wine glass on her nightstand, she stripped to her underwear and tugged a rayon nightgown over her head. Slipping under the cool percale sheets she could feel the tension of the day leave her body. She watched some soap opera reruns while she finished her wine. Soon after, she drifted off to sleep.

 

_Bridget moaned as Franky kissed her way down her neck. The brunette continued downwards until she could wrap her lips around the older woman’s nipple. Bridget gasped at the sudden sensation. She could feel Franky chuckle against her skin. She walked her fingertips across Bridget’s abdomen, leaving goose bumps in her trail, slowly moving them downwards. She teased along the apex of the blonde’s thighs._

_“Franky, please,” Bridget begged._

_“What?” the other woman asked, batting her eyes, gently rubbing her fingers across Bridget’s outer labia. Bridget bit back a moan._

_“Please…just…yes…that…” she murmured while Franky softly stroked her clit with her fingertips. It felt divine. She gasped as she felt the woman slip a digit inside of her. “Just like that…oh God.” Franky increased the pressure of her strokes and curled her finger, pressing against Bridget’s front wall. The blonde’s back arched off of the bed. “Fuck! Right there!” She could feel the tension in her body reaching its peak. Her limbs were starting to feel warm and heavy. She was so close. So close. All she needed was…_

A hard thump on Bridget’s stomach woke her up. The content face of Fred was staring at her, his plump body happily perched on top of the blonde. Bridget groaned.

“Fred, for fuck’s sake!” The yelling had caused Bridget’s abdominal muscles to contract. Fred’s face scrunched up, and he jumped off of her, trotting out of the bedroom.

 

That had been the hottest dream Bridget had had in ages, and it had left her extremely aroused. She looked at her alarm clock. The bright red display was screaming 6:04 AM at her. Good. That meant she still had enough time to find her release. She pulled her nightdress over her head and flung it on the ground. Trailing her hand down her body, she tried to recall the images her mind had created for her moments earlier, the feeling of Franky’s fingers inside of her. Her breath hitched as she slipped her own fingers between her folds, quickly locating her clit. She rubbed small circles while she felt the tension in her body rise again. As her movements became more frantic, soft gasps began escaping her throat, until her vision turned black. She toppled over the edge with a long, low moan, her hand falling limply to her side.

“Fuck,” she whispered into the dimly lit bedroom.

 

By the end of the afternoon, she had sent Vera off to her date with Matt in a new, white, flowing cotton summer dress and a cardigan she’d borrowed from Bridget. She was just about to start preparing dinner when someone knocked at the door. Strange. She wasn’t expecting anyone. She turned the oven off and made her way to the front door. Pulling it open, the person standing on the other side greeted her: “Uh, hi.”

“Franky?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought?


	3. With a Little Help from My Friends

_“Franky?”_

The brunette ran a hand through her hair, and greeted her again: “Uh. Yeah. Hi.” She smiled nervously.

“What are you doing here?” Bridget asked.

“Um, if this is a bad time, I can leave,” Franky said, already turning around. Bridget reached out and grabbed her hand.

“No, no, it’s not. I just wasn’t expecting you. Would you… Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.” Franky smiled as she shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

 

As Bridget led Franky through the hallway, the brunette suddenly grabbed her wrists and pushed her with her chest against the wall. Bridget could feel the younger woman’s breath against her ear as she growled: “I’ve been thinking of nothing but you for the past weeks. I need you. I want you. And I want you now.” She pulled on Bridget’s wrists, effectively turning her around and trapping her between Franky and the wall. Shock and confusion spread across Bridget’s face. Before she had any time to react, Franky pulled her blouse out of her trousers and roughly grabbed Bridget’s breasts.

“Franky, what the hell?” Bridget exclaimed, pushing the woman off of her and taking three steps backwards towards the living area.

“I…” Franky began, trailing off. She looked up at Bridget with her big green eyes, the regret nearly spilling out of them. “I’m so sorry. I’ll go. I…” She turned around, her gaze towards the floor. “Forget I was ever here. I shouldn’t have done that. Sorry.” She hurried away.

Bridget rubbed her wrists. What in the world had just happened?

 

Franky was sitting in her car, punching the passenger seat.

“Fuck!” She let her forehead rest on the steering wheel. She had totally misread the signals, and had royally fucked this up. There was only one person who could help her with this. She grabbed her phone and dialled a number she knew by heart.

“Hey, Liz? Can I come over for dinner tonight? I need some advice.”

 

That evening she was standing in front of Elizabeth Birdsworth’s detached house. As she approached the front door, it swung open, and Liz walked towards her and pulled her in for a tight embrace.

“Hey love. Come on in,” she greeted Franky, guiding her into the house. As they walked towards the dining room, she added: “I took the liberty of kicking everyone out. And, I also invited the girls. This sounded like something that needed a little more help.”

“Thanks,” Franky mumbled. They entered the dining room, and she was met with four very concerned faces. The women all lived on the same street, and had formed a strange but close-knit group of friends.

“Hey,” the brunette greeted them, raising her hand in a half-arsed wave.

“Hey Franks!” Boomer got up from her seat at the table to nearly squeeze the air out of Franky in a hug. The others greeted her as well. When they were all seated again, Bea began: “So, Franky. What the fuck did you do now?”

 

“…and then I apologised profusely and left,” Franky finished her recollection of what had happened a couple of hours earlier. Sighing, she cut off a bit of salmon and took a bite. Shaking her head, Liz reacted: “Franky, that wasn’t the smartest thing to do.”

“Smart? That was downright fucking stupid!” Boomer added. Franky groaned and dropped her head.

“I know, alright! I read the signs wrong, okay? What do I do?” She looked up at the friendly faces surrounding her.

“Well, since you fucked up royally, you’re going to have to do something big. A grand gesture of sorts,” Bea suggested as she passed the pepper to Boomer. At the mention of something grand and exuberant, Sonia’s eyes lit up. Already excited, her mind began to work: “So. Grand. As you all know, grandiose and awe-inspiring are my middle names.”

“Huh? I thought your middle names were Tamara and Eugene?” Boomer asked, confused. Bea snorted back laughter.

“Eugenia, but that’s beyond the point. What I’m trying to say, Susan, is that I’m good at these kinds of things. Now, what’s her favourite flower? Colour? Music?” Sonia asked as she pulled a notepad out of her handbag. Franky shrugged.

“What _do_ you know about her?” Bea asked. Franky ran a hand through her hair.

“Uh. Her name’s Bridget. She works as a something-psychologist at a women’s prison. She has good taste in books. She has a cat called Fred.”

“That’s not much to go on, love.” Liz laid a hand on Franky’s shoulder. Boomer got up: “I’mma get some more lasagne.” Suddenly, Sonia held up a hand.

“Wait a minute. A Bridget with a cat called Fred. Is the cat grey? And is she blonde? Possibly still owns a bunch of hideously orange high barstools?” Franky nodded. “Then I know who she is! I used to live across from her! Her name is Bridget Westfall. Oh, Francesca! All hope might not be lost after all!” She clapped in her hands, enthusiastically. Bea raised one eyebrow.

 

At that same time, Bridget found herself standing in her kitchen, lifting her freshly-made casserole out of the oven. Ugh. Just looking at it made her nauseated.

This wouldn’t do. She needed to clear her mind. Sighing deeply, she left the dish on the countertop to cool down, and went to her bedroom to change into a T-shirt and some capri workout pants. She grabbed her iPod and attached the band around her arm, and exited the house.

 

As she started her gentle jog, she thought about the events of the day. Sending Vera off to Matt had given her such a happy, warm feeling. She enjoyed helping the other woman live her life to the fullest; something Vera had always found intimidating and overwhelming. Then, Franky had appeared, suddenly and unexpectedly. She had forced herself on Bridget. But had she really meant to overstep her boundaries?

Bridget doubted it.

She increased her pace.

Franky had immediately stopped when Bridget had said something. She had seemed shocked. Regretful, even. It hadn’t been that Bridget didn’t welcome the advances. No, she just wasn’t expecting anything as vigorous. However, she hadn’t gotten the chance to explain that to Franky. The woman had immediately stepped back and left.

The worst thing?

Bridget still didn’t have the woman’s Goddamn telephone number.

 

Franky tried to swallow back her trepidation as she sat in the passenger seat of Liz’s SUV. She turned around to face Sonia.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” The older woman nodded enthusiastically.

“Of course it will! Now, go!”

“Good luck, love,” Liz encouraged her. Franky nodded and exited the car, walking over to Bea and Boomer, who were waiting behind them in Boomer’s excuse of a vehicle. Bea smiled as she handed Franky the huge bouquet of white tulips, roses and carnations they’d picked up from the florist minutes earlier. The elderly woman running the shop had assured them those were the perfect flowers for an apology. Taking a deep breath, Franky walked towards Bridget’s front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for all of your continued support. I am eternally grateful for every kudo and comment!


	4. Word to the Wise

Ten minutes later, Franky walked back to the women waiting in their cars.

“Well?” Bea asked. Franky shrugged.

“She’s not home.” Boomer punched a nearby tree. Shocked, Bea called out: “Boomer, what the hell?”

“I just really wanted everything to work out,” she admitted. Liz walked over and inspected the woman’s knuckles, as she added: “We all did, love.”

 

Sonia began rummaging in her bag. “Oh no. No, no, no! This just won’t do. Are you absolutely sure she’s not there?” Franky nodded.

“Yeah. I even walked around the house. Twice.” Sonia let out a displeased huff.

“Alright,” she said as she handed Franky a notepad and pen, “write. Everything you wanted to tell her in person. In the meantime, I’m going to see whether she still has the same phone number.” Sonia scrolled through the contacts of her iPhone.

 

‘ _Hi, you’ve reached Bridget Westfall. Unfortunately, I cannot pick up the phone right now. Please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you._ ’

Sonia made a disgruntled sound. The four women waited patiently while Franky finished her letter. When she’d written nearly two pages, she put the pen down and folded the paper twice.

"Hey, is Franky crying?" Boomer asked. Bea shushed her immediately. Sonia cleared her throat.

“Okay. Now, leave that and the flowers on her doorstep, and hope for the best!”

 

On the other end of town, Bridget was sitting on a bench in the park, watching some ducks in a pond, when suddenly she felt a presence next to her. Turning her head, she looked straight into the face of Governor Joan Ferguson.

“Good evening, Miss Westfall.” Bridget was taken aback for a short moment. She’d never seen the woman outside of the walls of Wentworth Correctional Centre, let alone out of her uniform. The tall woman was wearing a light blue blouse with black trousers and a grey blazer. She looked…almost friendly. Bridget cleared her throat.

“Hello, Governor.” Ferguson chuckled.

“Oh, please. We’re not at Wentworth. Call me Joan. May I?” she asked, motioning at the bench. Bridget nodded, and scooted to the side.

“Of course. Please, call me Bridget then.” Joan looked her up and down.

“Very well.” The raven-haired woman took a seat, and the two women sat together in silence for a while.

 

“Miss West… Bridget. Might I ask you something?” Joan asked, suddenly.

“Of course.”

“Why do you do what you do?” The Governor turned to face Bridget. Bridget’s brow furrowed.

“I’m not following you. What do you mean, exactly?” Joan pressed her lips together.

“Why do you see opportunities for the prisoners?” Oh.

“Why do you ask?” Bridget deflected. Joan let out a soft chuckle. Of course she knew what Bridget was trying to do. The woman hadn’t become Governor by sheer luck: she noticed everything.

“I’ve never understood why you do. And I like to understand my staff.”

“I believe that everyone deserves a second chance. People make mistakes, but if they work hard, pay their debts and really change, I don’t see why they shouldn’t be given some leniency. No person is a lost cause. No one. Sure, some may be more armoured than others, but…” She sighed. “I believe there’s always some hope. Some light in the darkness. Even if it’s just a tiny speck. It’s there.”

“Well then. I think you have the answer to whatever seems to be on your mind. Good evening, Bridget. I will see you on Monday.” Satisfied with the conversation, Joan got up from the bench and walked out of the park.

“Wait? How did you…?” Bridget began. Joan only chuckled in the distance.

Shaking her head, Bridget got up. It was starting to get cold. Time to go home.

 

As she rounded the corner to her front door, she noticed a huge bouquet leaning against her porch.

“What the…?” she mumbled, coming closer to inspect it.

 

After she’d taken the flowers inside and put them in water, she noticed the screen of her phone lighting up. Huh. A missed call from Sonia. No voicemail. That was strange. She took the letter that she had found between the flowers from the kitchen island and sat down at the dining room table to read it. It was neatly written, but the handwriting was a little shaky.

 

_Dear Bridget,_

_I wish I could have told you this in person, but unfortunately you aren’t home. I hope the flowers are still alive when you find them. If you even find them._

_I am so sorry for what happened this morning. I never should’ve assumed. I should’ve asked first._ _I'm sorry for the hurt I've caused you and I regret the things I've done._

_These tears that run down my cheek are filled with sadness and hurt, because I felt something, and I know you felt it too. It was there, electric, and exciting._  
  
_I know sorry is not enough because I screwed up, badly. But for whatever it’s worth: I wanted to say that since I met you, you cross my mind every single day._  
  
_The thought of you makes me smile, and I know what I felt was real, so I'm writing you this letter so that you know how I truly feel._  
  
_What I really want to say is that I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have overstepped. In those short moments that I got to spend with you, I figured you’re pretty fucking awesome. You’re beautiful, you’re smart, and you’re Goddamn sexy._

_If you never want to see me again, I get that. But just in case you do, which I don’t deserve, my number and address are on the back._

_Once again, I am truly sorry._

_Take care,_

_Franky Doyle_

 

Bridget looked at the phone number on the back of the letter. Would she? Franky had really fucked things up royally. However, she’d said it to Ferguson herself: everyone deserved a second chance. And from the looks of it, Franky was sorry – truly sorry. Still, she felt too old for this kind of crap. Shaking her head, she went to heat up some of the casserole.

 

That night, Franky stayed on her mind at every second. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t concentrate. All she could think of was the brunette. At 2 AM she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck it.”

She picked her phone up from her nightstand, grabbed the letter, and dialed the number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continuous support! I apologise for not getting this to you sooner. Please let me know what you thought!


	5. Hello Again

“Who the fuck is this and why are you calling me? Do you have any idea what time it is?” Oh crap. Bridget winced at the harshness of her words.

“Uh, Franky, hi. It’s me.” Great opening line, Westfall. “I mean, it’s Bridget.”

“Bridget?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for calling at this hour. I’ll let you go back to sleep.” Bridget felt like slapping herself. This had been an extremely stupid idea. Just as she was about to hang up, Franky called out: “No, no, wait! Don’t go! What’s up? Why are you calling?”

Yes…why was she calling, again?

“I…” Bridget began, “I got your letter. And the flowers. They’re beautiful, thank you.”

“Oh.” Franky was silent for a while.

“Would you like to come over for some coffee?” Bridget suggested. She could almost hear Franky’s smirk through the telephone.

“Right now?” the younger woman asked. Bridget chuckled: “Well, you could if you wanted to, but…”

“Give me twenty minutes.” Franky broke the connection. Huh? What? Shit! She hadn’t counted on the brunette actually showing up! Fuck! Bridget jumped out of bed. She needed to get dressed, and fast!

 

True to her word, Franky stood knocking at the opaque glass door of Bridget’s home exactly nineteen minutes and forty-three seconds after hanging up the phone. She nervously shifted her weight from one leg onto the other. After a few seconds, she could hear someone shuffling on the other side. She heard the door being unlocked, and it swung open. Bridget stood in the doorway, her hair loose, wearing a soft-looking dark purple jumper and what looked to be grey pyjama pants. Franky held back a chuckle. She looked adorable.

“Um…hi,” she began.

“Hi…” Bridget replied. They stared at each other. Franky cleared her throat.

“So, um, can I come in? You promised some coffee?” Bridget blinked, and responded: “Oh, yes. Of course. Come in.” Franky followed the blonde into the living area. The older woman hesitantly walked over to her coffee machine, Franky’s eyes never leaving her back.

 

“Bridget?” Franky asked. She didn’t use the pet name just yet; she was still counting her lucky stars that she was standing in the woman’s kitchen at 2 AM after what she’d done.

“Hmm?” Bridget murmured.

“I really need to apologise to you about what I did. I never should’ve pounced on you like that. It’s just that…you’re hot, ya know?” Franky ran a hand through her hair, watching as the blonde slowly spun around. Bridget was…smiling?

“Franky, I…” she began, but she seemed at a loss for words. The older woman sighed, and mumbled: “Fuck it, I’ll just show you.” She confidently walked back over to Franky, grabbed her face between her hands and roughly pushed her lips against the brunette’s. Franky moaned in approval.

Bridget broke the kiss way too soon for Franky’s liking. Panting ever so slightly, the psychologist explained: “What happened yesterday? You surprised me, but…I wanted it too.” Franky thought her eyes might bulge out of her head as her mouth fell open. Chuckling, Bridget leant forward and gently took the brunette’s bottom lip between her own, sucking on it lightly. Taking the hint, Franky wrapped her arms around the shorter woman, letting her hands rest on her hips. She felt Bridget’s tongue pressing at her lips, and enthusiastically granted her entrance. She groaned as she felt the muscle stroke against her own. They only broke apart when the need for oxygen became blinding.

Slipping her hands under Bridget’s jumper, Franky moved them upwards until she reached her breasts. She gasped faintly when she realised that the older woman wasn’t wearing anything underneath the garment and her palms came into contact with her soft but firm breasts. Bridget shuddered slightly as she let out a long, quiet moan and pressed her forehead against Franky’s shoulder. Without her heels, the blonde was much shorter than the brunette. Grinning, Franky gingerly brushed her thumbs across taut nipples, enjoying the feeling Bridget’s soft gasps against her neck.

“This needs to come off,” she murmured against the crown of Bridget’s hair.

“Does it now?” Bridget managed to breathe. Franky hummed affirmatively. The blonde chuckled wholeheartedly as she grasped the hem of her jumped and pulled it over her head, flinging it to the ground. The younger woman was momentarily distracted by the sight of Bridget’s bare chest in front of her. Bridget squirmed under Franky’s stare.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Franky growled as she bent forward and took a nipple in her mouth, humming against the soft flesh. Bridget could feel her knees give way from the pleasure, and managed to vocalise: “Couch.” Chuckling, Franky released her breast and retorted: “I have a better idea. Where’s your bedroom?”

 

Bridget led her down the hallway until they reached the entrance to her personal sanctuary. Lifting up her eyes to Franky, her expression suddenly turned serious.

“There’s something you should know. I have one really important rule in regards to my bedroom.” Franky’s brow furrowed.

“What’s that then?” she hesitantly asked.

“No shirts allowed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Unfortunately this took very long to finish, because my wife fell ill. However, it's finally finished! I want to thank you for sticking with me and hanging on until the end. Please let me know what you think!


End file.
